Squiggy Bitz
by Lord Ironwolf
Summary: What would it take to distract an Ork from a good scrape? Read on and find out.


Squiggy Bitz

Warboss Urtzbatz was in a good mood. He had had a good scrap yesterday with a mob of hardshell oomies and their goofy berzerkers. And here he was heading BACK to the same place, this time to stuck in with a bunch of softshell oomies and their tanks. Kommandos told him that softshell oomies with tanks were heading for same place. Well, this was turning into a really good place for getting stuck in and bashing heads. When this scrape was done he thought he just might sit and wait for the next mob instead of going looking for a fight. Something about this place kept the oomies coming back. That was good enough reason to make it his base. The good thing about fighting in the same place twice was that he already knew where things were. His mobs knew where to go before they got there. Norgetz's boyz would charge up past the ruins on the right flank, Da Speedsta's would go through the ruins, Erkil, with his mob of grots would take the middle with Zorkork's mob. And Urtzbatz, with his mob of nobs would race up the left flank in their wartrukks. This was actually the kind of battle plan that Urtzbatz liked; everybody shows up where you're told, charge at the enemy and whack'em.

Dorkrak, on the other hand, was a very irrated ork. It had cost a lot of teeth, but on the last supply run from the hulk, Dorkrak had bribed the nob in charge to get him a box of Deep Fried Squiggy Bitz. Squiggy Bitz are the tastiest, most fought over, snacks ever made by the cook boyz on the hulk. And these were the special kind. These were ones that were soaked in mold wine before being cooked. Dorkrak had been just waiting for a chance to sneak away from Zorkork's mob so he could eat them all by himself when he was ordered to get moving for a scrap. "Soon" he thought, "Smash da oomies, den pop off. Deep Fried Squiggy Bitz, and da's all mine."

All the mobs reached the battle zone at the same time. Urtzbatz had the wartruk at full speed and was howling with glee (the red ones really DO go faster) when he saw the flash from the battle cannon on the nearest oomie tank. With a practiced ear he tracked the incoming shell. "Dis be close," he thought. Then, "Dat be _real_ close." Finally, "OH, MORK SHIT!" The blast landed squarely between the two wartruks. Urtzbatz pulled himself out of the rut his heavy armor had plowed when he hit the ground and shook his head to clear it. Most of the nobs seemed to be ok, if a little dazed. At first he thought that Gitzbitz, his mekboy, was on fire judging from the sparks and smoke coming off him. However, the demented little Ork was cackling with glee and shouting, "It work'd! It work'd!" When he saw Urtzbatz was still moving, he ran over and shouted: "See boss! I'ze told ya! Weez alive because da force field thingy I made worked. No boby laff at me now!" Sadly, Gitzbitz was wrong about that. He was just the kind of Ork that everyone laughed at and picked on no matter what they did. In fact, Urtzbatz, after looking at the burning wrecks of the two wartruks, was getting ready to pile drive the annoying little git into the ground. Before the blow landed though, the thought entered his mind that, well, he _was_ still alive and that meant he could still kill oomies. Instead he gave him a 'well done' pat on the head (which actually differed very little from his 'screw up again and I'll kill you' smack). Gitzbitz picked himself up off the ground and grinned happily, having correctly interpreted the blow to the top of his head. Urtzbatz turned to the milling nobs and roared "Awlwite! So's we walk from here on. Foller me!" Then he turned and lumbered toward the waiting Imperial troops as fast as his heavy armor would allow.

Meanwhile on another part of the battle field, unknown to Urtzbatz, (There are no secret plots. Urtzbatz is unaware simply because after giving the order to charge, he's not real big on what humans call 'command and control'. Of course, that big hill between him and the rest of the battlefield might have something to do with it also.) Norgetz was urging his mob forward through a hail of mortar fire. Perhaps through is not the right term. The mortar barrage was so inaccurate it was actually preceding the Orks without actually hitting any of them. Norgetz was a little confused about that. It was his experience that mortars were supposed to blow holes in his mob, not the ground in front of them. While considering this he nearly twisted his ankle on a loose rock thrown up by one of the blasts. It was then that he realized the clever human plan.

"Heads up boyz!" he shouted. "Da oomies is tryin ta make uz trip and break sump'em. Then they's gonna shoot uz when we can't run or walk. Da oomies only tink da clever. Weez on to dim now. Watch your step an letz whack'em."

Howling with glee and getting drunk on engine noise and exhaust fumes, the Speedsta's roared through the ruins and out the other side, directly into the sights of Sgt. Marcus and his Fire Support squad of autocannons manned by Storm Troopers. The air was full of smoke, shell casings, chunks of Orks and pieces of war bikes. The lesser weapons of two regular Guard squads joined in and the Speedsta's were stopped cold. The three survivors roared back into the ruins to re-think their 'at'em at full throttle' attack plan.

Dorkrak was having a wonderful dream. He was rolling in a huge pile of Squiggy Bitz and was just getting ready to start to gorge himself on them when a sharp pain interrupted him.

"Hey!" a rude voice bellowed, "If yuz still alive gitz up an start movin!". Dorkrak rubbed the side of his head and tried to remember. Oh yeah, that blast from the big kannon on the oomie tank. He thought he must have been hit harder than he thought. He was awake now but he kept smelling Squiggy Bitz. He became instantly awake and checked the carry bag that he had his Squiggy bitz in. To his horror, the bag had been torn open by the blast and the Squiggy bitz were falling out on to the ground. And if he could smell them… He quickly started stuffing them back in the bag when he heard….

"Hey" sniff, sniff "wutz zat?"

"Smelz good."

"Iz dat smell wut I tink id iz?"

"Can't be, whood bring im to a scrape?"

"Somebody gotz Squiggy Bitz!"

The battle was completely forgotten. A good scrape could be got anytime. Squiggy bitz were harder to come by. Cannon shells, laser blasts and sniper shots were all ignored as the mob began to close in on the hapless Ork with the Squiggy Bitz.

"Share wit yur mob mates Dorkrak," growled Zorkork, "Givz uz some. Juz one." Dorkrak had not popped up from under the mushroom yesterday. He knew very well that nobody, but nobody (well, at least an Ork) could eat just one. He grabbed up his carry bag and clutching it tightly to his chest, bolted away from the rest of his mob, straight toward the Imperial positions.

"Hey! We wants dim SQUIGGY BITZ!" shouted Zorkork as he started after him. "Squiggy Bitz! Squiggy Bitz!" Immediately the rest of the mob took up the chant and the chase.

_Squiggy Bitz! Squiggy Bitz!_

Sgt. Bringham sighted in on another Ork through the scope on his sniper rifle from within the small clump of trees his squad was hiding in. He didn't know why the Orks suddenly stopped moving and crowded together, but he wasn't going to pass up an opportunity for an easy shot wondering about it. He squeezed off a shot and his momentary elation at hitting the Ork square in the back of the head turned to frustration as he watched the Ork swat at the dart and then ignore it like he would an annoying insect. Cursing about ineffective toxins and the lack of anything in an Orks' skull to be affected by them, he decided the next one was going straight up the brutes' arse. While he was taking the time to dull the needle so it would hurt more going in, he saw one Ork break from the group and charge his direction with the rest of the mob close behind. "Ok boys," he whispered to the rest of the squad. "You know the drill. Down in yur spider holes and pray to the Emperor they overlook us. "

"NO!"

Sgt. Bringham snapped around and looked at Private Wextall's angry face, "Have you gone daft? That's a whole bleedin Ork mob crashing down on us."

"I don't care." Said Pvt. Wextall defiantly. "I'm tired of being treated like I'm meter and a half of nothing! I may get killed, but I'll prove to people I'm something! I'll be remembered!"

"You buggered up idiot! They don't call us Ratlings because they love us. You ARE a meter and a half of nothing. Get in your hole!"

"No." Pvt. Wexall stood up, set down his sniper rifle, drew his machete, and prepared to face the onrushing hoard of Orks. Sgt. Bringham glanced over his shoulder. The Orks were almost there. "Fine, I won't let the rest of the squad get killed for your ego. For disobeying a direct order on the battlefield, you're sentenced to whatever happens to you in the next 2 minutes." And with that he slid into his own spider hole. As the first Ork approached, he braced himself, swung, and missed completely. He spun around to meet the counter stroke but all he saw was the backside of an Ork stuffing something in its mouth as it ran. He had just enough time to think "What…" before he was smashed to the ground by the leading Ork from the rest of the mob. Once on the ground, every Ork that passed made a special point to stomp on him. When the mob passed, Sgt Bringham and the other Ratlings cautiously peered out of their hiding spots and regarded the bloody smear that was all that remained of Pvt. Wexall.

Sgt. Bringham turned to the remains of his squad and said, "Ok boys, I want you to remember this lesson well." They all nodded solemnly. "All right then, let's infiltrate back to base. We're done here for today." And Pvt. Wexall was right, he was remembered. His story was told around campfires and passed from unit to unit, 'The Ratling that faced an Ork mob'. Everywhere people had the same thing to say, "What a bloom'in idiot."

_Squiggy Bitz! Squiggy Bitz!_

Erkil was busy kicking his cowering grots and shouting "Gitz up! Gitz up!". He didn't see what the problem was. That oomie cannon didn't kill that many of them. There were still plenty of grots left. "Gitz up! W'ez still got a scrape to git stuck inta!" At times like this he wondered why he ever wanted to be a Runtherd. He looked down and saw a grot with his hands over his head and his behind sticking up in the air. Erkil let loose with a savage kick directly into the exposed behind and sent the hapless grot sailing a good 3 meters toward the Imperial lines. He felt the bones crunch when he kicked and heard other bones snap as the grot landed. Erkil smiled, now he remembered why he liked being a Runtherd. The other grots took inspiration and began to stir. The first one to stand up all the way took an auto cannon shell and exploded like a water bag that had a stikbomb shoved into it. That was all the inspiration the other grots needed. They all jumped to their feet, had a collective bowel movement, tossed their shootas over their shoulders and bolted back the way they came. "Juz like las time." Muttered Erkil to himself. An autocannon shell whizzed past his head and reminded him of something he had momentarily forgotten. Namely, that he was standing out in the open in front of the oomie guns that had just routed his grots without so much as a hair squig for cover. As he sprinted off in the direction his grots disappeared, he kept telling himself, "I'z not runnin from a scrape. I'z gots ta catch me grots an bring'em back."

Squiggy Bitz! Squiggy Bitz! 

Urtzbatz pulled himself out of the rut his heavy armor had plowed when he hit the ground and shook his head to clear it. The oomie cannon had knocked him into the air again and again, thanks to Gitzbitz and his force field; everyone was just dazed instead of dead. He had decided he rather liked the sensation of flying through the air, but landing left him irritated. Idlely, he wondered how many stormboyz packs it would take to make his 'eavy armor fly. He shook his head again and focused on the battle once more. First thing, he thought, was to rip the engine out of that oomie tank that kept popping him into the air. After that, find out what in the name of Mork's left foot that they were chanting on the other side of the hill.

**_Squiggy Bitz! Squiggy Bitz!_**

The three remaining Speedsta's were behind a building in the ruins arguing about how to get at the oomies without being blown to bitz when they heard the chant above the rumble of their idling engines.

"Hey!" Shouted Greentoof, "Yuz 'ear dat? Day's got Squiggy Bitz!" He popped the clutch of his bike, spun a tight turn and wheelie'ed toward the sound. As he cleared the edge of the building he was met with a hail of autocannon fire that instantly reduced him and his bike to scattered burnt and bloody parts. The other two watched in silence as Greentoofs' head came rolling back down the street and came to a rest between them. They both looked down at the head and then back to each other.

"I'z not dat ungry, yooz?"

"Naw. Wutz about da scrape?"

"I'z not stoopid either. It'dz no fun ifs ya donz gets a chance to whack'em back."

They both looked down at the head again.

"Hey, wantz to play kickball?"

"Yup, beatz be'in blown to bitz by oomies."

**_Squiggy Bitz! Squiggy Bitz!_**

Norgetz was wrenching his choppa from an oomie's skull when he heard the chant coming from the other side of the wall. His mob had just finished hacking and shooting all the oomies in the roofless shell of the building they were defending. The mortar squad and the squad of line troops didn't last long once his mob stormed into the ruin. The wall that the chant was coming over didn't have any doors or windows and was just barely too tall to climb over. Soon the entire mob was staring at the wall trying to figure a way past the obstacle that stood between them and the Squiggy Bitz. It should be noted that the doors and windows that they just assaulted in through were directly behind them. But then, going back to go forward has never been a popular Ork concept. Norgetz thought quickly (for an Ork) and came to a very Orky solution. He turned to the nearest of his mob mates and kicked him soundly in the stomach, then he used the gasping, doubled over form to boost himself over the wall. After a brief 'debate' over who would be a stepping stool and who would be climbing over, most of his mob followed after. The debate losers would eventually heal, but they would not be getting any Squiggy Bitz today.

**_S_****_quiggy Bitz! Squiggy Bitz!_**

Urtzbatz pulled himself out of the rut his heavy armor plowed when he hit the ground and shook his head to clear it. He decided that he did not like flying so much after all. His earlier good mood was mostly gone and he was looking forward to ripping up that tank. After he stood up he was finally able to make out what the chanting was. His nobs were also were also able to make it out and one of them started heading for the source. He got about three steps before his head exploded.

Urtzbatz lowered his smoking megablaster and growled at his nobs, "Nobody walks away from a scrape! O.K., so dey gotz Squiggy Bitz. I'm da Warboss, yur my nobs! Dat means we gets da Squiggy Bitz. But we'z finish da scrape first. So, da sooner ya, Hey! Waits up!" Before he was able to finish his motivational speech, his nobs had all charged off towards the Imperial line.

**_Squiggy Bitz! Squiggy Bitz!_**

Dorkrak's world had narrowed down to two things. Running flat out and stuffing his face with Squiggy Bitz. As such, minor details such as the fact that he was charging full tilt into the Imperial position, had escaped his notice. Two things have kept him alive so far. One was the incredible luck that all the fire coming from the Imperial position was missing him. The other was that in his haste to stuff his face, he was dropping a few Squiggy Bitz along the way. When ever one dropped, the closest Ork behind him would stoop to snatch it up and either gets passed by the next Ork in line or gets tackled and has to fight for the Bit. Either way, it kept the mob from catching him.

**_Squiggy Bitz! Squiggy Bitz!_**

Sgt. Marcus and his auto cannon gunners had kept their attention focused on the ruins in front of them waiting and hoping for another chance to literally blow away some more Ork bikers. He had heard the chant and saw the charge off to his right, but that section of the battle field was not his responsibility and the chant meant nothing to him. That was, until he heard the chant coming from his left, and to his chilling dismay, rear. He looked over his shoulder; sure he would see green skinned death charging down on him. His dread changed instantly to confusion as he realized the Orks were for the most part ignoring him and his squad on their way past. There were several rude gestures and even one mocking salute but they just chanted and ran as if nothing else mattered. By the time they were past, the entire squad had turned to watch them in stunned silence.

Being a man of few words, Pvt. Jorkhalk broke the silence, "Capitol WTF."

"I don't know." Sgt. Marcus replied, "We need to," he didn't finish the sentence as something occurred to him. Looking off the left, he tried but could not find any living trace of the platoon of infantry and the mortar squad that were supposed to be the left flank of the Imperial line. That feeling of chilling dismay returned as he realized that he now _was_ the left flank of the Imperial line and the Orks had already over run his position.

"Either the Emperor has a grand plan for us or he has one very strange sense of humor. Either way, we're done for today. Pack it up and get ready to move. I'm calling the Lieutenant, if he says to bug out, I want us moving by the time he finishes the sentence."

**_Squiggy Bitz! Squiggy Bitz!_**

Lt. Flynn was targeting the lead Ork with his plasma pistol and as he pulled the trigger, his aim was spoiled by a frantic coms man slapping his arm with a handset. "Sir! Sgt. Marcus says the left flank is gone and he's been flanked."

Rather than shouting at the trooper for spoiling his shot, he quickly turned to the left and checked it for himself. He cursed bitterly, a mob of Orks were heading right for him. He'd puzzle out later why the fire support squad seems completely intact despite being over run. He snatched the handset up spoke into it, "Marcus, bug out, regroup checkpoint Delta." And he tossed the handset back to the waiting trooper. By the time the trooper caught it, Sgt. Marcus had his squad moving.

Lt. Flynn turned back to check the Orks coming from the front and realized it was too late to do anything about either mob. He had just enough time to shout "Brace for assault!" even though such a warning was hardly needed. In fact, the lead Ork was already through the line and hadn't bothered to attack anyone. He just stormed through and then veered off to the right. There wasn't time to ponder that as the rest of the mob quickly arrived.

Now there was a little time to ponder. Although the Stormtroopers were prepared to sell their lives dearly, and met the Orks bravely, the Orks didn't seem interested in fighting. This went against everything Lt. Flynn knew about Orks. In fact, the Orks didn't give anyone any more attention than it took to get past them. Trooper Scott was the exception. Just before the mob arrived he had bent down and picked up something that the first Ork had dropped. Trooper Scott had been quite literally torn to pieces.

Lt. Flynn saw the same thing happen to 3rd squad and the command squad that happened to him. Except both Ork mobs had joined together and were all following that lead Ork. He didn't understand it and quite frankly didn't give it a whole lot of thought. The Orks weren't going to be stopped, and his platoon was still in good shape. There would be other battles. He gave the withdraw order to checkpoint Delta and hadn't gone 20 meters before he received the same order from the Colonel.

_**Squiggy Bitz! Squiggy Bitz!**_

Urtzbatz had finally and happily come to grips with the Oomie tank that kept tossing him into the air like an unwilling Stormboy. 'Grips' was very literal in this case as he had climbed on top of it and had torn the cover off the engine compartment. Urtzbatz was gleefully ripping hoses and wires and in general causing that kind of damage that only an over sized Ork with a power claw can cause when that little voice in the back of his head started screaming to be heard. He had heard the little voice before and it called itself the voice of reason. Urtzbatz never could figure out what that meant. All he knew is that every time he started to do something really, really fun, it would start yapping at him to stop. And now it was trying to say something about power claws, sparks and oomie go juice. One of the nice things about being da Warboss was that you didn't have to listen to anyone, especially a little voice in your head that was trying to ruin your fun. Why, if he had listened to that voice, he would have hardly had any fun at all. Of course, he wouldn't have had so many visits to the Mad Docs either, but that was just what went along with having fun.

So, without any further thought on the matter, he tore his power claw through a large hose near the base of the engine. Oomie go juice spewed everywhere, and as he withdrew the claw for another swing, it cut open an electrical cable and sparks flared around him.

After the explosion, while sailing through the air, his mind cleared just enough to think "Not again." before being dazed once more by a rather forceful re-acquaintance with the ground.

**_Squiggy Bitz! Squiggy Bitz!_**

Urtzbatz pulled himself out of the rut his heavy armor plowed when he hit the ground and shook his head to clear it. He had just stood up when something smacked into his chest causing him to stagger slightly. He looked down groggily to see an Ork sprawled on the ground frantically chewing away at something. As his head cleared he looked around to see how the scrape was going and was a bit disappointed to see it was over. All the oomies were either dead or running. When he looked back he was surrounded by his mobs and the chanting had stopped. They were all just staring at him.

"Wut'z dis din!" he roared at them. If there was a challenge going to be made he was in the perfect mood for it.

There was silence for a moment and then someone who was safely hidden in the midst of the mob shouted, "E's got squiggy bitz an e' won't share!"

"So dat's wot all da shout'n was about." Urtzbatz grumbled. He looked down at the hapless Dorkrak. "Well, share up. Givs dim ta me."

Dorkrak trembled in fear on the ground, "I cant'z. I ate dim all."

Urtzbatz gave the trembling Ork an evil smile (which is pretty impressive coming from an Ork Warboss) as he drew his big choppa, "Yuz sez dat like itz a probum."


End file.
